


Good Men Go to Heaven

by supernaturalwhovian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ben Braeden is Dean Winchester's Son, Classic Rock, Dean death, F/M, Funeral, don't fear the reaper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:51:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturalwhovian/pseuds/supernaturalwhovian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean dies, and he leaves a real family behind.</p><p>Slight AU-Ben is a little kid, and Dean was always there for him.</p><p>Drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Men Go to Heaven

Lisa swallowed her tears and smiled through the blurry film covering her eyes. The upturned lips were directed downwards at the little boy holding her hand. 

He had green eyes and ruffled brown hair, his jacket collar popped. His portable CD player was blaring classic rock from its headphones. Everyone shuffled in the pews behind them at the disruption, but Lisa refused to tell Ben not to use his comfort blanket. If it made him feel better, then anyone who had a complaint would have to go through her. 

Besides, she had a feeling that Dean would appreciate the irony of a tinny rendition of “Don't Fear the Reaper” softly playing in the background at his funeral.

“Why's Daddy lying down?” The look that Ben gave her wrenched her heart in two, but she tore her eyes away from Dean's still face, his hands folded over his chest, to pull Ben into a hug.

“Daddy went to Heaven.” Lisa had no clue if this was true or not.

“Where's Heaven?” She was staring into a duplicate pair of the mossy green eyes she'd seen five years before and taken a hard tumble for, and it made it very hard for her to look her grieving son in the eye. 

“Heaven is where God is.” She wasn't sure if this was true or not, either.

“When's Daddy coming back from Heaven, then?” The curious tilt to Ben's head was completely innocent. He really had no idea.

She choked on a sob as stifled murmurs of pity picked up behind her, and she quickly shook her head. “He's not coming back, Ben.” Her voice was trembling and she had to kick herself in the ass and tell herself to get it together. Her son was depending on her. She was sure she could make it without Dean, but it was hitting her in waves. Dean would never see Ben's sixteenth, eighteenth, twenty-first, fortieth birthdays. Never meet his first girlfriend. Help him learn to drive in his first car. See his wedding. His first baby—Dean's first grandchild.

She was drowning. “He's not coming back, honey.” She kissed Ben's forehead, and she saw the belated realization the very moment it dawned in his eyes, right before the sobs wracking his tiny body. 

Lisa held her one lifeline tight as the tears slipped down her face. “We'll see him again when we go to Heaven.”

From then on, the Braeden door frames were filled with salt. The water filter was laced with holy water. Rugs were strategically placed in front of doors to cover devil's traps, and there were two shotguns under Lisa's pillow—one with alternating rounds of iron and silver, and one with salt.

Dean would have been proud.


End file.
